


Falon'din's Blessing

by Folle



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, and of course i have to start with a bang and show my inky in pain, eeeeey my first time writing them
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-07
Updated: 2017-05-07
Packaged: 2018-10-29 05:43:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10847637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Folle/pseuds/Folle
Summary: Everyone lost someone when the Conclave exploded. Leliana and Cassandra lost Divine Justinia, Cullen lost countless old Templar friends, and Vivienne an insurmountable number of First Enchanters and nobles.But who did the Inquisitor lose?





	Falon'din's Blessing

It was a late night in Skyhold. Too late for anyone to be awake, save for the guards that strolled across the battlements. But their minds we’re drowsy and lack, only the sting of the cold air moving them forward. It was sort of comforting for Solas, to feel so many minds dulled by sleep, and to feel the few drowsy ones pulsing in the background.

Cullen was one, always wracked by nightmares and withdrawal. His was like an ache in the back of his mind, like a migraine about to start, but never quite making it. Cole was another, but he didn’t leave any feelings, other than that of the warmth that lingers after a tight hug. When the Inquisitor was awake, she left the faint sensation of his heart skipping a beat. It was odd, but it was unique entirely to Shey’llan, just like everything else about her. And thinking about the waves that came off her mind, along with the way she smiles after reaching over and squeezing his hand during meals, and how the faint scent of vandal aria always seemed to follow her, managed to make his heart actually skip a beat.

Solas paints long strokes on the walls of the rotunda, for his latest fresco. The shield of the Wardens was starting to form quite nicely, despite how on the inside he raged. How could the Inquisitor let the Wardens stay? They are fanatics, willingly enslaving themselves to a power they cannot begin to comprehend. The only thing worse they could have done would to be throwing themselves to the mercy of the Evanuris, but servicing themselves to the Blight is only one step away. There was a niggling deep within himself, a little voice in the back of his head that made his gut wrench.

_Oh, stop fooling yourself. You destroyed your own people to try and lock away the Evanuris and the Blight, and look where it got you. Your people in poverty and slavery, and the Blight still ravaging the world. You have failed, Fen’Harel. You just haven’t noticed it yet._

He waved a hand in front of his face, trying to dismiss the thought before it could go any further. What’s done is done, and the guilt weighing him down is his to bear. Solas had long since come to terms with the atrocities he had committed, yet for some odd reason his hand holding the paint brush was starting to shake, and it felt like he held the entire world on his shoulders.

Solas set his paintbrush down on his desk, along with his palette. The fresco could wait to be finished another time. Right now, there was an ache in his body that he needed to fix. One that no amount of stretching or rubbing could fix. It was deep in his soul, and there was only one person in Skyhold that he knew of that could fix it. Solas took in a deep breath, and focused in on her feeling. The familiarity of it made a small smile graced his face. He could never stay with her long term, both of them would only end up with broken hearts in the end, but the Void be damned if he wasn’t going to enjoy it while he could.

His feet carried him to the main hall, Varric nodding his way as he exited the rotunda. There were a few people at his table, like Blackwall, Scout Harding, one of the soldiers who just got off guard duty, and from the weary way he dragged his feet through the entrance, Cullen as well. Other than them, and a few guards scattered here and there, the hall was empty, with the only light coming from the fireplace next to their table.

“If you’re headed up to her room, I wouldn’t bother Chuckles. Last I saw, Lavellan was in the garden.” He didn’t look up from his cards, and neither did anyone else. There was big money being passed around, so he didn’t blame them. Though at the mention of Varric’s fond nickname for Solas, a quiet chorus of “Hey Solas” rose up from the table. As Solas thanks Varric, and walked to the entrance of the garden, Cullen plopped down in a chair and was dealt a hand of cards.

The garden was quiet, as always. No one, save for a guard, of course, was there. He furrowed his eyebrows and tried to focus in on Shey’llan’s soul. Instead of the skips, he felt low, methodical beating. It was slow, so slow it couldn’t even be comparable to sleep. The deep, slow, hard thudding hurt his chest in a way that he hadn’t felt in thousands of years.

When the realization dawned on him, he went bolting to her location. “No no nononononono, he cannot-“ he thought to himself. He cannot be free. Corypheus may have gotten in, and out, but he cannot fail again, not like this. He cannot lose her to _him_.

Solas stops in front of the door, not wanting to startle who ever, or whatever, was inside. He slowly pushed the door open, ears perked up, on edge. There was a figure, and elven woman with a shaved head, kneeling in front of a statue of Andraste, with her hands clasped together. Two of the candelabras were upright, and them, along with many candles scattered on the floor and short steps, were lit up.

He slipped inside, like light through cracks into a dark room, and quietly closed the door behind him. Now that he was closer, he could hear that she was speaking. The Inquisitor’s voice was low and stead and hurt, just like her heart. Solas could just about barely make out what she was saying.

“Falon’Din enasal enaste. Ma da'len ghilana mir din'an. Guide his feet, calm his soul, lead him to his rest.” Solas’ real heart settles, as he realizes she was only praying to him. Shey’llan lifted her head up, looking up at the statue of Andraste. A choked sob came from her mouth, and she hurried to wipe what Solas assumed were tears from her face. “Creators,” she sighed exasperatedly, wiping her hands down her face. She resumed her praying stance, and took one long look at Andraste before ducking her head again.

“Ashes we were, and ashes we become. Maker, give him a place at your side. Let me take comfort in the peace he has found in eternity.” Her breathing became erratic as she came to a close, and curled further into herself. “Please, Falon’Din, Andraste, Lady of the Skies, Dumat, anyone who’s listening, please make sure he finds peace.” She’s hyperventilating now, and Solas knows he needs to step in.

“Lethallan,” he says softly, carefully walking forwards, hand outstretched. “Are you alright?”

“Y-you shouldn’t be here Solas.” The Inquisitor pulls herself up to her feet, swaying slightly. When she turns around to face him, her eyes are red and wet, her cheeks are stained with tears, and snot is leaking from her nose. “Please just go, I want to be alone.”

It startles him, how quiet and soft her voice is. It’s completely unlike her, how bold and loud she is, a pure force of nature. He continues inching towards her. “Leth- no, vhenan,” It has been so long since he has cared for someone like he does the Inquisitor, no, Shey’llan, the last person being… He shakes his head slightly. It feels odd to have that word roll off his tongue once more, but there’s a squeezing in his chest that comes with speaking it that makes him feel nostalgic. “You’re upset, and I understand, but bottling up your pain will do nothing for you. If you don’t wish to do so, you don’t have to tell me. But know that I will listen and stay by your side.”

Her big blue eyes match her vallaslin, but the color seems more vibrant when her eyes are rubbed raw from crying. “I…” She trails off. She grabs Solas by the front of his sweater and crushes him into a hug. “I do not deserve your kindness, but it is much appreciated.” Shey’llan’s voice is raspy and low. She sits down on the stairs, pulling Solas down by his hand. “This hurt inside me has been festering, and I have yet been able to properly… grieve for my loss at the Conclave. No one knows, besides you, I guess.” Her eyes are unable to meet his.

The beating in his chest hurts now, more than it ever has before. “Did you lose someone close to you?” He wraps an arm around her shoulder and hugs her body close. It still trembles slightly, but he steadies her.

“My clan sent a small group of us to the Conclave, to keep an eye on what the shem were doing. They sent me, a few of our hunters, and the Keepers first.” She reaches up with her free hand to wipe away at the wetness in her eyes. Her breathing becomes irregular, and her words shaky. “Th-the hunters were names Mihren and Nolathra, they were bonded, only just recently. They didn’t pay attention at all, too busy making puppy eyes, groping, and sneaking off to mack on each other.” She lets out a breathless chuckle. “I don’t know how they kept any of us safe from slavers.”

Solas rubs small circles into her shoulder. “And the mage? What were they like?”

“His name was Alaraheel. He was the picture-perfect image of elvhen stereotypes, you know? He had that pale green skin, long white-blonde hair, a mage of course, and these skinny ears that stuck out from his head. Ala was such a goofy looking kid when he was younger, but he really grew up to be a handsome man. He was always so polite and soft spoken in public, but he was such a little shit in private. So snarky, always telling these terrible puns, and trying to pull tricks on people.” She pauses for a moment, a fond smile pulling at the corner of his lips. “I remember once, when he was younger he gave one of the clan members robes that were woven by a material that disintegrates in water. Creators, he was so embarrassed when he found out that someone had swapped their clothes and he went to chase a halla out of the river when we were trying to leave.”

“You speak so fondly of him, dare I say I’m a little jealous. Were you two bonded?” he asks. It elicits a deep booming laugh from her, one that shakes him from the inside out. “What?”

“We weren’t lovers Solas,” her laughing dies down as she once again become solemn. “Alaraheel was my son, my baby boy. The keeper didn’t even want him to go, said he needed more training. But I said he needed to train unfettered from her grasp. Spread his wings and figure out what he was good at and what he wanted out of life. A few days before the Conclave, when we were in Haven, we got into this terrible fight because he had fallen in love with some young Orlesian noble who said he had pretty eyes, and was going to whisk him away to get married. They were both foolish and young and idealistic. He was sour at me for the rest of the meeting until-“ She can’t seem to make the words come out of her mouth, but when they finally do, her voice is cracked and weak. “I never got to apologize to him.”

“Oh vhenan,” Solas sighs, holding her head close to her chest as her body heaves from sobbing. “Ir abelas, ma elgara. I hope your son finds peace in the afterlife, whoever, or whatever, may be there to guide him to rest.”

“You would have liked him Solas,” the Inquisitor says after a stretch of silence. “He loved to learn, more than anything else. It was why he wanted to marry that Orlesian, he was a student at the University. He won over my son’s heart by promising him every ancient tome his heart desired across Thedas. And he loved spirits, Creators, the Keeper and I would chew him out so much because he would go talking with spirits to find ancient artifacts to bring back.”

“He sounds like a wonderful young man. I would have loved to meet him. I’m sure since he’s your child, he has the same burning passion of a thousand suns?” His honey sweet words do nothing to cover how his chest aches. Can he ever do anything right? For one day, can he go without learning how his decisions and mistakes harm the people around him. Solas has to beat back the urge to collapse to the floor and beg for her forgiveness, less he destroy his carefully crafted composure.

There was always something about her that clicked with him in just the right way. He felt her joy, and he felt her sorrow, he felt her passion, and he felt her pain. Everything about her, from her soul to her brassy voice, sang to him in a way he hadn’t known since…

Since…

Since Mythal.

It pains him to admit it, but the similarities between them stack up to levels that surpass uncanny. Their same level headedness, to the point of it coming to frustratingly stubborn levels. The way she fussed over everyone like she was their mother, though that now makes more sense. The way she wanted to help and save everyone, even those who didn’t deserve to be redeemed or have second chances, or were beyond her capacity to save.

“He’s even worse than me, if you can believe it.” Shey’llan looks up at Solas and lightly moves her fingers across his jaw. “I admit, when we were in the Fade, I was panicking. I told Stroud to go through, but that bastard came back to shove me through. But for one moment, I thought I was never going to see you again,” she pauses to take in a deep, shaking, breath. “I thought I wouldn’t be able to keep you safe anymore. I know you’re a big, grown elf and can take care of yourself, but… So was my son, and look where he ended up.”

It was Solas’ turn to crush her to his chest. “Var lath vir suledin, no matter where you are, or where I am. If that had happened I would tear the world asunder to save you. Surely even you could let the tables turn everyone once in a while?”

Shey’llan pulled herself away to cradle Solas’ face in her hands. “Ar lath, ma atish'an,” she whispered before pulling him into a gentle kiss. His heart fluttered when their lips met and moved in tandem, but with the Inquisitor, every kiss felt like the first.

“I assure you Inquisitor, you will know no peace with me,” Solas chuckles, running his hands down her back.

“How about we go up to my room and you prove that, hmmm?” she teased back, pinching his bum in response.

Solas jumps slightly in response, letting out a soft ‘oh!’. “Trust me, ma elgara, I will prove it. Over, and over, and over,” he punctuated his words with kisses to her neck. “For as long, and often as you want.”

“That better be a promise, Solas, or I will never forgive you.”

“It is, and I always keep my promises.”

_That’s what you told me Solas. Are you planning on breaking her heart as well? Is her love a fickle game for you to play with, as was mine? Is this amusing? I only wonder if we’ll share the same fate. It would serve you right for toying with her emotions like you are. You’re not capable of love, at least not anymore._

“You’re wrong, I love her,” he whispered into Shey’llan’s shoulder, so low and quiet he could hardly hear himself.

“What was that Solas?”

“Nothing vhenan, only admitting my undying love to you.”


End file.
